


As We Dance to the Masochism Tango

by FalabaWitch



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 09:33:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8139176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalabaWitch/pseuds/FalabaWitch
Summary: There are relationships that change us, whether we want them to or not.
Lena remembers her life in relation to Amelie, while Tracer and Widowmaker dance on the battlefield. Somehow, an understanding is reached and a conclusion is made.





	

It’s typical of Tracer to not be able to sit still before a mission, but it’s bad this time. She’s zipping around the ship, waiting to be let out. Winston’s told her to sit down at least three times, but she just  _ can’t _ .

It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she knows Widowmaker is on the opposing side. Nothing, not at all.

It’s just- She has a lot of feelings to work out about Widowmaker, who was Amelie, but is now a brainwashed terrorist with uncanny aim. Widowmaker who chased her across the rooftops of London and had at least three chances to kill her, but chose not to until she had the perfect possible shot. Widowmaker who plays along with her games, and manages to catch her off guard more than anyone else.

There’s a lot going on there, in Tracer’s head, and her way of trying to work through it involves a lot of moving. Everything with Tracer involves moving in some way or manner.

She looks over at her team, sitting there, quietly chatting with each other. Every now and then, Winston or Mercy or even Soldier: 76 will look over at her, with some form of worry or caring on their face.

(It’s hard to tell with Soldier: 76, with that visor, but she knows.)

(Jack Morrison has never been a subtle man. So they humor him, still.)

“Tracer,” Mercy says at one point, softly, “ is everything… okay?”

“Fine! Everything’s fine! Why wouldn’t it be?” Tracer says too quickly, zipping over to the chair next to Mercy. “Just antsy about the mission, is all.”

“Any reason you’re nervous?” Mercy says delicately. Tracer knows that she probably knows- she doesn’t know  _ how _ Mercy knows, but she does- about Tracer’s predicament.

“Well I wouldn’t call it nervous, per se.” Tracer leans back in the chair a little bit, trying to be casual. It’s failing. “I’m just - I have a lot of energy right now! Not excited, per se, but-” Tracer can’t really verbalize it, so she just motions out in front of her with her hands, grasping at nothing. She thinks that gets the point across better.

“Ah,” Mercy says simply, before continuing. “Does the energy have to do with our enemies, perhaps? The Talon agents we’re going against?”

Tracer blushes, and she doesn’t know why she’s blushing besides the embarrassment of getting caught. “No. Yes. Maybe. How do you know?”

Mercy smiles, just a bit. “I’ve known you long enough to read you quite well,” she says, putting a hand on Tracer’s leg. “And Winston tipped me off to your past encounters with Widowmaker.”

Tracer glares at Winston, and mouths ‘traitor’, but Winston is conveniently engaged in conversation with McCree who is halfway across the fucking carrier.

“Fine. Yes, it’s about Widowmaker. But I don’t know why, so I can’t really talk about it,” Tracer says with a shrug, and her foot’s tapping on the floor at a rapid pace at this point, because she wants to get up and get away from this conversation.

Mercy nods. “Fair enough. It makes sense, though, that you and her have something more than any of us with her. You knew Amelie before-”

“She’s not Amelie,” Tracer says shortly, getting up. “She’s clear about that. And as I said, I can’t really express it since I don’t understand it! All I know is that she’s a different enemy than what I’m used to, but that’s not going to get in the way of anything.”

And that’s all true, because Tracer really has no poker face when it comes to her emotions. She just doesn’t understand this time, but it’s not going to get in the way of her mission.

She’s a hero. She saves people, that’s what she does, and Widowmaker will not get in the way.

And Tracer looks down at Mercy, and says “Once I figure it out, I’ll talk, okay? But I can’t right now. I don’t know how,” Tracer admits, rubbing the back of her neck for a moment. But then she straightens up, and smiles broadly. “Meanwhile, let’s go kick some Talon arse, okay?” And she smiles, broadly, standing still for a moment and holding out a hand to help Mercy up. The blonde woman takes it, accepting defeat for the moment, and soon Tracer can feel it as they set down. She loads her guns, cracks her neck, and can feel the rush of adrenaline as the doors open.

* * *

 

_ When Lena was fourteen, she realized that she liked girls. At least, way more than she liked boys. _

_ It wasn’t something she had thought about a lot, but when her friend, a sweet and pretty girl named Alice, walked into school one day with the sun hitting just right behind her, her golden hair framing her face just right, it hit Lena harder than anything ever had. She couldn’t meet Alice’s eyes for the rest of the day, and any time she would look up at her, Lena’s heart thumped just a little bit harder. _

_ She came home that day, and sat in her bed for a long, long time. Her mother came up at one point, and knocked softly on Lena’s door. _

_ “Lena, darling? You in there?” Her mother opened the door just a peek to see Lena on her bed, her face scrunched in thought. Mrs. Oxton raised an eyebrow. “That’s certainly a thinking face. What’s the matter?” _

_ “The matter? The matter is I like Alice!” Lena said, going from her quiet contemplative state to flopping backwards on her bed. _

_ Lena’s mother gave her a questioning look. “I mean, she’s your friend, I thought liking someone was sort of important there.” _

_ Lena groaned into a pillow. “Not that way mum. I mean I like-like her. In the way you and Dad like each other,” she explained, exasperatedly. _

_ Realization dawned on Mrs. Oxton. “Oh! Oh. Oh dear, that can be a problem,” she said, simply. _

_ Lena just nodded. “Yeah, because I like her, the same way she likes Jarret.” _

_ Her mother came in the room then, sitting on the edge of her bed, patting her knee comfortingly. “And there’s no way she likes you back in the same way? She likes you just as a friend?” _

_ Lena just silently nodded, sitting up just a little, and her mother brushed a stray hair out of her face. _

_ “Oh darling, I’m sorry. Something like this happens to everyone, but it never hurts less.” _

_ Lena bit her lip, trying to keep from crying. “I don’t even know  _ why _ I like her so much all of a sudden. But I do, and I know she’ll never like me back the same way, and I just - it hurts, mum,” she says, burying herself in her mother’s shoulder. _

_ Mrs. Oxton wrapped her arms around her daughter. “Of course it does, darling. But sometimes, it just works out that way. Sometimes, someone can’t love you back the same way. Sometimes they’re not allowed to, sometimes they just don’t. I’m sorry I can’t help you much more than this. But just know this.” She took her daughter face in her hands, and kissed her forehead. “There’s nothing wrong with loving them in the first place. And you will always be loved here. Now,” she wiped away her daughter’s tears, smiled, and got up, “time for dinner!” _

_ Lena smiled, just a little. The problem wasn’t fixed - it took another 2 weeks for her heart not to jump into her throat every time Alice looked at her - but it was okay. _

* * *

 

Tracer zooms forward, darting in and out between the ruins, shooting at anything and everything that moved that doesn’t look like a teammate.

She’s on a roll, every shot hitting its target, and she laughs through the intercom. “Hey guys, when are you all gonna catch up?”

“Not everyone can screw with time, Tracer,” Soldier 76 grumbles, and it just makes her snicker a little more. She’s pushing the enemies back, her blood pumping in her ears, and  _ god  _ does she feel alive.

And then a shot streaked with red flies right past her, and it all stops as she looks for the source of the shot. Widowmaker stands tall in her ridiculous suit, at the top of the building opposite. Her gun is still up, but Tracer can see the smirk on her face from all the way over here.

And then Tracer is off again, darting forward, up the stairs of the building, and when she’s at the top she just starts shooting. “Hello, love!” she calls over her gunshots, and she dives out of the way as Widowmaker shoots back.

“Tracer,” she says in her thick French accent, and she runs off, using her grapple to fly off to another roof, and Tracer follows her.

This is how it always is, between them. Widow runs, she chases, and they banter along the way. They shoot at each other, but it’s never one of Widow’s bullets that Mercy is digging out at the end of the day. And Tracer never hits her. It ruins her perfect streak for today but she never hits Widow. It would ruin their game.

“You might as well just give up now love!” Tracer blinks ahead, trying to cut Widowmaker off. “We’ve pretty much pushed you all back, you can’t win this one!”

Widowmaker laughs, and grapples to yet another point, this time to a higher rooftop up to the side, letting off a couple shots that hit near Tracer’s feet. “Mon Cherie, I’m not giving up any time soon.”

Tracer follows as fast as she can, reloading on her way up. But by the time she’s up there, she’s faced with the barrel of Widow’s gun, right in her face.

“In fact,” Widow continues as if she nothing had changed, “I’ve gotten you right where I want you, dearest.”

Tracer’s heart stops again, but this time, she fears just for a moment it might not have the chance to start back up.

* * *

 

_ Lena stood restlessly at the edge of the bar, looking around at the room full of fancy people in fancy dress. She caught Winston’s eye from across the room. He rolled his eyes as well, understanding her feelings on the matter. _

_ ‘All active Overwatch agents have to attend the UN ball,’ Morrison had explained as everyone groaned loudly. ‘Sometimes we have to play diplomats, and at least it’s a night off with some free drinks.’ And, well, the Commander knew how to get his team to reluctantly agree. _

_ Lena looked down at her suit and adjusted the chronal accelerator. It lay over the nice button up shirt, and Lena had actually managed to find a nice bow tie to match it. But it still felt awkward, such a piece of bulky gear at an event where everyone looked sleek and elegant. _

_ “Lena!” someone called, and she turned her head to see Gerard Lacroix, the agent in charge of dealing with that damned terrorist organization, Talon. Lena hadn’t worked with him much yet, but he had seemed nice, if a little too good at dealing with terrorists for her comfort. _

_ “Hey Gerard, good to see a friendly face,” She said, with a big smile. _

_ And then she caught sight of the woman, the one standing right next to him, and Lena’s smile drops just a little. Because this woman is absolutely gorgeous, her long dark hair pulled back in an elegant ponytail, a gorgeous red dress slinking down her figure like it had always belonged there. Her eyes were a warm honey-brown and Lena honestly thought she could get lost for hours just looking at her. She was the most striking woman in the room, and in Lena’s humble opinion, the most beautiful. _

_ Lena couldn’t manage to make a sound before Gerard motioned to the woman. “Oh! Of course, I haven’t introduced you. Lena Oxton, this is my wife, Amelie. She’s a dancer in Paris,” Gerard said, and his voice was brimming with pride. He wrapped an arm around Amelie’s waist, pulling her close for a kiss on the cheek. Amelie laughed, a low, sweet chuckle, that somehow reminded Lena of dark chocolate. _

_ Lena’s heart seized up for just a moment, and she was suddenly fourteen again and back on her bed, thinking about Alice’s hair and how lucky her boyfriend must be. _

_ But she made it pass, and she held out a hand to shake Amelie’s. “Nice to meet you, Amelie!” _

_ Amelie gave a small, enigmatic smile herself. “The pleasure is mine, Ms. Oxton. After all, it’s not everyday you meet one of the famous Heroes of Overwatch.” _

_ Lena’s cheeks heated up just a bit, and that was when she realized she was well and truly fucked. One sentence, and she was already gone, far beyond anything she had ever felt. _

_ And then she looked back to Gerard, whose hand was on Amelie’s waist, still smiling blithely at his beautiful, charming wife, who he was obviously madly in love with. She understood him completely. _

_ Pain wrapped around her heart as she looked at them, but she continued the conversation as if nothing had happened. She fell deeper and deeper as she talked to Amelie, and the guilt consumed as she could hardly bear to look at Gerard. Less than an hour later, Lena was left alone with her thoughts, and she decided to order the strongest drink they would allow at the damn party. _

_ “Sometimes people just can’t love you back, Lena,” she said to herself under her breath, and took a hearty swig of the drink. _

* * *

 

Tracer could absolutely Recall backwards, if she needed to at this point. She could recall back down and surprise Widowmaker by popping up somewhere else. She doesn’t have to die here, right now, and she’s hopeful she won’t.

She doesn’t Recall though, because this is different. This isn’t how their game usually goes, and that worries Tracer just a bit. The status quo had somehow changed, and no one had told her.

So she stays there, looking at Widowmaker’s rifle but not the woman herself. “Well. You gonna shoot me?” she says, ridiculously casual. She puts her hands up in false surrender.

Widow doesn’t acknowledge that, and instead starts circling Tracer, just a bit. “Something’s different about you. Your heart rate was elevated even before we started our little game. You’re more frantic, and not even trying to hit me anymore.” Widow raises an eyebrow. “And here I thought you hated me.”

_ I can’t, _ Tracer thinks, but doesn’t say. Instead she says, “Nothing can hide from your sights, eh?”

Widowmaker rolls her eyes at the reference to her own line. “I would ask you why, but there’s one thing Cherie.” Widow comes just a bit closer, and the barrel of her gun lowers. “I have the same problem.”

Tracer is stunned for a moment, but gives a wry smile. “Aren’t you supposed to be emotionless, love? What ever happened to that?”

“Talon clearly never anticipated you,” Widowmaker says, and there’s no venom behind it at all. Widow walks just a bit closer, and Tracer relaxes a little, taking her own step toward the other woman. Widow’s several inches taller, so Lena has to looks up at her.

“Good to know I can beat out Talon with just my smile and a charming personality,” Tracer says. “But seriously. If I have this problem and you have this problem, but you work for terrorists and I don’t, what do we do now?”

Widowmaker is quiet for a moment, and then looks down at the ground that is laid out in front of them. Tracer looks as well, and from here she can see the whole battlefield. She sees Reinhardt and Mercy pushing forward together, literally knocking Talon soldiers out of the way. She sees Soldier 76 and Reaper in a skirmish to the side, each trying to wipe the other off the map. She sees Winston, who is looking up at the rooftops, and Tracer thinks that he’s looking for her and Widowmaker, where they would usually be playing.

“What I should do is tell Talon I need to be reconditioned,” Widowmaker says softly, before turning back to Tracer, and Widow lets a hand trace the other woman's jawline. Tracer shivers at the touch. “But I’m not going to do that, for reasons I don’t even quite know myself yet.”

Tracer looks back up at the other woman, and smiles, saying softly, “Excellent. Then we’re on the same page.” Because if there was one thing Tracer was sure of at this point, it was the complete lack of understanding she had for how she felt about Widowmaker.

Widow laughs quietly before holding her hand out to Tracer. Tracer looks at it for a moment, confused, before Widow wiggles her fingers. “Well? You must have some kind of device that helps you keep notes out here. I refuse to believe you are all this competent without some help.”

Realization dawns on Tracer. “Oh! We have Athena, our AI, she listens and responds and-“

Widowmaker cuts her off, “Ah. Well then, listen to this Athena.” And she bends down right next to Tracers ear, and says an address, slowly and clearly, and low enough to make Tracer shiver just a bit.

“Meet me there, in two days, 8 pm sharp,” she whispers to Tracer, and hesitates for just a moment before pulling back up to her full height.

Tracer is blushing hard now, and combined with the heat of the sun she’s bright red and most likely looks ridiculous. “This- this isn’t a trap right?” she asks, and once the words are out she almost hits herself because if it were a trap,  _ why the fuck would Widowmaker tell her _ ?

But Widow just smiles a little. “You’re welcome to bring your guns. It’ll make things more… exciting,” she says, and before Tracer can even recover from that - ‘exciting’ is very dangerous with them - Widow uses her grappling hook to fly off, with a backwards shout of “Adeiu, Cherie!”

And Tracer just stands there, wondering what the fuck just happened, but she also wonders and hopes she can bring herself to be at that address in two days.

* * *

 

_ Lena was alerted within hours of when Amelie went missing, when Gerard burst into the shooting range at Watchpoint: Gibraltar and almost bowled over Reyes and Morrison when telling them. Lena was right there with him, and when the words fly out of his mouth, “Amelie, they took her, Talon, they took my wife Reyes, how can I be calm?!” Lena feels like she can’t breathe. _

_ It was almost two years after meeting the woman, and while Lena couldn’t say they were close - there was almost never any reason for her to be in Paris, and never a reason for Amelie to follow Gerard at the expense of her career - they had found a nice companionship with each other. And two years of friendship had done nothing for Lena’s pining, except confirm that it had not been a passing moment when she had first met the woman. _

_ Lena adored Amelie, and now she was gone. _

_ She walked up to Reyes and Morrison then, taking her commander by the shoulders very seriously, and telling him, “The moment you find her, I am on that team to go get her, sir.” _

_ Jack Morrison just raised his brows, “Oxton, what has gotten into-“ _

_ “I’m her friend, commander. The moment you know where she is I am the first person assigned to that team, please,” she asked, and for once there was nothing bubbly about her, and a deadly seriousness had taken its place. _

_ Jack’s face still seemed confused, but he nodded. “If it’s that important to you… Yes. But be careful Tracer, Talon can be brutal.” _

_ Gerard took a sharp intake of breath at that, and the worry he was exuding infected Lena. Talon was, in fact, brutal, and who knows what they might find of Amelie. _

_ After that it had been a waiting game. Two weeks. Two weeks of mostly flitting around Gerard himself, or somewhere on the base. She had no active mission, nothing to do. She just waited, and watched, and listened. They talked, once or twice, but the two of them had never been that close, despite her friendship with Amelie. She was their only common point of interest, and that hurt too much to talk about. So it was also two weeks of more silence than Lena had ever wanted in her life. _

_ They might have been the longest two weeks of her life. _

_ She got the call from command in the middle of the night, and she was out the door literally faster than would be possible for anyone else in the world. _

_ It was barely a mission, in hindsight, which should have been their first clue. They had simply left Amelie in an abandoned warehouse, far outside Marseille. Lena had darted inside long before the rest of her team, once recon had told her there seemed to be nothing else in the building. And they had left Amelie alive, and seemingly intact. Her clothes worse for wear, her hair a tattered mess, Lena pulled the other woman up by the arm and helped her walk out of the building, slowly but surely. _

_ “Lena?” she had said,so quietly Lena almost didn’t hear. _

_ “Yeah, yeah love, it’s me, I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Lena had said, and Amelie gave a small weak smile, before almost collapsing, onto Lena with all of her weight. _

_ And when they had made it outside, Amelie was rushed into the loving arms of her husband, and an ambulance right next to him. And Lena watched from afar, smiling to herself a bit, because at least Amelie was safe, and at home. _

_ It was only after another two weeks, which seemed to fly by, that all of Overwatch realized they had overlooked one thing. And it was then that Lena heard the news that Gerard had been killed in his sleep, and Amelie was gone once again, and Lena felt even more lost than before. _

_ It was one week later that the first intel of the Talon agent Widowmaker began to pour in. _

* * *

 

Tracer is sitting on the point in the aftermath, twirling her guns back and forth in her hands, a small smile on her face. She spoke softly to Athena, “Athena, love, can you tell me where the address Widowmaker gave me is? I’d like to make sure it’s not a trap, at least.”

“The address is an abandoned warehouse, in the southern French countryside,” the computer responded, and Tracer furrowed her brow.

“What’s the nearest city?”

“Marseille.”

Tracer’s eyes widened a little “Athena, is it the same warehouse?”

“The same as what?”

“Oh you know what - the same one she was found in?”

“...Yes. The addresses do match.”

_ Well _ . That is certainly a development. And it’s in that moment that Tracer resolves to go, trap or not. But she is going to bring her gun.

Mercy approaches her and looks down at her, her blonde eyebrows raised.

“You went missing for a little bit during the battle - might I assume it was to play that most dangerous game with Widowmaker?” she asks, and Tracer giggles a little.

“You caught me red handed doc. But I’ve got it under control now, you’ll be happy to know!” She smiles brightly, and Mercy squints her eyes suspiciously.

“Really.”

“Mhmm!”

“Everything under control?”

“Indeed!”

“So you’re not going to be disappearing for 15 minutes while the rest of us have to push forward without you?” Mercy says with a smirk, and Tracer blushes.

“If I hadn’t been dealing with Widowmaker, you’d all have had an expert assassin shooting at your heads as well as a bunch of Talon mooks and whatever the hell Reaper is.”

Mercy rolls her eyes at the mention of Reaper, “That man,” she mutters under her breath, but Tracer interrupts her before she can talk about her former friend more.

“And I have an answer now. Or at least, more of an answer.”

“Oh?” Mercy looks at her interestedly. “Your game was that productive?”

“Absolutely, as it always is!” Tracer gets up, and still looks up at the statuesque German woman. “I don’t know how to name the feeling, but I know what I’m going to do about it at least!” And then she begins to walk away, leaving Mercy in an state of utter confusion.

“You’re not going to tell me?” Mercy calls after her, worry seeping into her tone.

“Nope! That’s for me to know, and for you to see the results of!” Tracer responds, and she knows it’s a risky move. If she were less trustworthy or important, Mercy would probably get her put on observation or even some sort of suspension until she explained what, exactly, she planned to do with an active Talon agent.

But she trusts Mercy, and she knows Mercy trusts her. So Mercy knows that Tracer isn’t going off to join the dark side or anything. In fact, her plans are the exact opposite.

Lena failed to save Amelie, but now, Tracer has been given a chance to try and save Widowmaker.

She isn’t going to let that chance go too easily.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Tom Lerher's "Masochism Tango".
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta Kriseis yet again!! She's not even in this fandom but listen I trust her with both my life and my writing. She is golden.
> 
> So yeah, here, have some Overwatch Lesbians.


End file.
